Buggin' Out
by lightning027
Summary: Robin Bandura has enough to stress about - she plays 6 sports, she has a grand total of 1 class with her best friend, and her crush doesn't even know she exists. So when strange villains start to attack, and her jewelry manages to produce a thing called a "kwami", she realizes she has no choice but to add crime fighting to her extracurriculars. (Focuses on LB and CN from the 1980s)
1. You Down, Robin? (You Coming, Robin?)

This fic is also available on Archive of Our Own! (Complete with full length summary because apparently ff . net hates fun!)

archiveofourown works/5496509/chapters/12698150

xxxxx

Five minutes before the bell rings. I can do this.

I barrel into the locker room ahead of all the other girls, who don't seem to care how late to class they are. I don't even have time to shower, so I just wipe myself down with some water and paper towels by the sink before applying more deodorant. I don't keep perfume in my locker – it's for special occasions and I'm always worried about breaking the glass bottle, I'm notorious for doing things like that, especially when I'm in a hurry. I throw on my sweater and jeans before changing my socks and slipping back into my ratty tennis shoes. I've been wanting some new, cool shoes, maybe some Nikes instead of this off brand whatever my mom bought me, but I'm never going to be able to save up money for it, what with school and sports. I have barely any time to babysit, or hang out with my friends for that matter.

Speaking of friends, I snap out of my auto-pilot and throw all my volleyball gear into my locker before grabbing my books and running a brush through my hair as I jog down the hallway. I didn't have time to blow dry it or use hairspray, but it's probably poofy enough on its own. I skid around the corner of the hallway, since my shoes have lost almost all of their traction from overuse. I make it to my homeroom right before the bell rings, and slide in behind my best friend, Danielle Allport.

Dani was cool, pretty much a cooler version of me. We were both sporty girls, but she was also popular and pretty. She may not wear much makeup because of sports, but her Italian heritage – long, dark lashes and beautiful voluptuous hair – made her so pretty that she didn't really need it anyway. She was up to date on fashion, though, always wearing cute jewelry and getting new shoes. I wish my parents had as much money as hers did, to get her new shoes whenever she felt like it. But I didn't resent her for it; it just bugged me since my own shoes were so ratty compared to her sparkly flats.

We had met in middle school, through sports. We were on the same soccer team, and the following spring, the lacrosse team. We made a great pair, always working together to make up new combos just helping each other improve our skills. And soon that spread from the field to in our daily lives, and we just became comfortable with each other; close friends and teammates. Of course Dani plays sports that I don't – really just cheerleading and horseback riding – but I play sports she doesn't either. This year I have soccer, volleyball, basketball, softball, and lacrosse lined up, as well as kung fu. It was what defined me. I was the weird sports girl.

I sort of wish I wasn't. Sports were just something I liked, to me they're just a hobby like some girls with makeup or others with drawing. But to most people, playing so many different sports, and especially those with overlapping seasons, is completely ridiculous. I get so many comments that I should just chill out, pick one, and take up aerobics to stay in shape. But then people also say that since I'm a girl, I shouldn't be a jock, or an athlete. That I should stop acting like a little kid, stop playing games, and grow up. If growing up means leaving what I love behind, then I say hell no.

That's why I liked Dani. She never says things like that. The only times she's told me to calm down were ones where I was seriously overworking myself. Overlapping seasons are really tiring, and Dani knows that.

Dani notices me, deep in thought, and chuckles at me. I probably look exhausted. I've been at school since 6:30, so I'm just about ready to drop dead.

"Rough practice?"

"Ugh," I flop onto my desk, my arms cradling my head. "Coach made us practice receives until our thighs burned. I'm just so glad to be in an actual chair."

"You're not too tired to go to that super cool craft show after school though, right?" I look up, and Dani's hopeful eyes are basically tearing into my soul. I know that if I say no she'll forgive me, but I don't want to let her down. Plus, I've had worse.

"Nah, I'll make it. That's the one good thing about morning practice, more free time in the afternoon," plus the fact that it was the glorious two weeks in between soccer and basketball season, meaning that I was gonna be one-sporting for a while. The perfect time for socializing.

It is at that moment that our teacher, Mr. Greyson, decides to show up. Every morning he's late, and every morning he has a different excuse. Not that I mind. He's giving his spiel and calling roll when I see him. Anthony Cattell.

I've had a crush on him for three years. Yes, I know it's ridiculous, but it's not like the crush is noticeable. Maybe it was in sixth grade, but now that I know he's not interested, I just keep to staring from afar. He's cute. He's grow his hair out from the buzzcut he used to have in middle school, to something that was a little more trendy, even if his pin-straight hair didn't really capture the same effortless style that was so popular in Hollywood right now. He was shy. That was sort of his mark, what defined him. He was smart, sure, but he wasn't vocal about it, so he wasn't a nerd. He played sports – mostly soccer and basketball – but he wasn't on the football team, and he didn't hang out with the showy athlete boys, so he wasn't a jock. He was just quiet. Not even shy. It just seemed like he wasn't fond of people, maybe. Or commitment.

I had heard through some questionable sources that his family moved around a lot when he was a kid. He was rarely at the same school for more than a year, and usually he only finished a semester before switching. He was smart, and he had taught himself most things, so he never had to be held back, but still. That sort of thing tends to stunt emotional growth. Maybe that's why I like him. Maybe I want to protect him.

First and second period fly by quickly. Lunch is next, but I don't have it with Dani. I hate that, having different lunch periods. But I still have friends to sit with. Debbie, she's with the sewing club. She isn't a fashionista per say, more of an eccentric. She likes to make really gaudy sweaters with all sorts of appliques on them, and she's very bubbly and fun. Carly is more of the fashionista. She likes fashion, but her real passion is playing matchmaker to everyone else. Since all the guys love her, she can take her pick and then set up his friends with her friends. It may sound a bit weird, but it's actually very sweet the way she pays attention and makes sure both parties have similar interests. Then there's Heather. She's a bit of a nerd, I guess. She's really into Star Trek and comics, superheroes and stuff like that. She's always working with Debbie to make costumes for her next convention, and I think she's sort of converting Debbie to nerdy stuff like that. A lot of people might see us as an odd bunch, but we like each other's' company.

The rest of the day passed quickly as well. The only class that seemed to drag was math. Geometry was easier for me than Algebra, but it was still difficult, and my least favorite class. To make it worse, it was my only class with Anthony, who was amazing at math, of course. He was a genius, so there was no doubt that he would be good at math. It's a bit embarrassing to say that I paid more attention to him than I did to the coursework.

Finally the day's over. I wouldn't say I'm the type of person to hate school, but no one really likes school to begin with, right? I would much rather be improving my spike or shaving a few seconds off my mile than learning about eqiu-whatever triangles.

I would also rather be with Dani, who's standing by her locker, exchanging the day's books for ones she would need for tonight's homework. I'm smiling, just about to tell her how excited I am to go to the craft show (aka glorified flea market…) with her, when I feel a hand on my shoulder the exact same instant Dani's locker slams shut.

"Bandura, glad I caught you. Sorry about the short notice, but the gym just freed up and we're gonna have afternoon practice today. It's only three days until the regionals, you know."

It's Thompson, my volleyball coach. I resist the urge to sigh heavily. Dani gives me a sad little smile as Coach claps my shoulder one last time and walks away. I know that regionals are important, I just wish this had been scheduled sooner so it didn't seem like I's blowing off my best friend.

"Sorry," I say, scratching the back of my head, a nervous reflex. Dani just waves me off.

"It's alright, it happens. Regionals are in three days, right? I'm not surprised by the extra practice."

There's a smile on her face, but I can tell Dani's disappointed. We haven't hung out in at least a week, and since we only have homeroom together, it feels like it's been a month instead. I smile back at her, it's soft and I hope it conveys how truly sorry I am.

"Hey, pick up something for me, alright?" I ask, rummaging in my pockets until I find a crumpled five dollar bill and hand it to Dani. I was planning on putting that money in the "get Robin some new shoes" fund, but Dani knowing that I care is more important than shoes. She smiles at me. If it's one thing she loves, It's getting people presents.

"Sure thing! I'll give it to you tomorrow then? You're gonna love it, whatever it is!" Dani practically squeals, crumpling the bill even further when her hands clench in excitement. I smile genuinely now – it's hard not to when your best friend is so happy.

"I'm sure I will! Bye Dani!" I call as I turn to make my way to the locker rooms.

"Bye Robin!" She calls, heading towards the front doors of the school.


	2. Crunchy, Robin? (Jealous, Robin?)

Practice was hell, of course. Not because it was too physically demanding; that was reserved for morning practices. No, it was because coach was finally switching into regionals mode, and that meant "tough love" as she liked to call it. I don't think even the seniors cuss that much on school grounds. By the end of it, I was emotionally exhausted. I opened the door to my house, forever grateful to be home as I throw my bag down as soon as humanly possible, flopping to the floor soon after.

"Rough day, kid?"

It's my dad, chuckling at my misfortune. I just groan in response as he steps over me to make his way to the living room, where some action movie is blaring over the surround sound. My mom is at the kitchen table, reading a book with a cat in her lap. It's Angel, the white one, who's curled up in her lap.

Last year, cat gave birth in our crawl space and died soon after, leaving four kitten stranded under our house. My dad was able to save them, and my mom insisted we care for them until they were old enough to give away. We raised the kittens ourselves, heating bottles in the middle of the night and cuddling tiny cats that had just barely opened their eyes. By the time they were old enough to give away, we had become too attached to part with any of them. So now we have four cats. It's not that bad, I love cats. They're affectionate but they also know how to care for themselves, and they're not big enough to knock you over with overexcitement. Some may think cats are distant or too independent to make for affectionate pets, but to that I say "then you obviously haven't been caring for yours correctly".

Another cat – Boots, who is black with white paws – walks right up to my face, smushed on the carpet in front of the door, and meows at me, turning and waving her tail in my face. Boots always liked me the best, since I was the one that fed her the most often as a kitten. I smile at her as she mews at me.

"You're so needy, you know that?"

I haul myself off the ground, groaning when my knee cracks on the way up. I scratch Boots behind the ears before I pick up my things and make my way to my room, cat following close behind.

"How was the craft show?" my mom calls as I waddle down the hallway, sore and aching. I sigh and stop halfway down the hall.

"I didn't get to go. Coach made us go to afternoon practice last minute." Mom frowns at me.

"Sorry, Robin. I know you were really looking forward to spending time with Dani."

I shrug. "It happens."

That's all I say before I manage to trudge into my room, Boots following on my heels. I pet her as I put all my dirty clothes in the hamper and retrieve the books I need for homework. By the time I'm ready to take a shower, Boots has curled up in a ball on my bed, purring contently. I smile at her. At least Boots will love me no matter what.

The next morning I breeze through practice. My spike is getting better, and even Coach is impressed, considering that I'm our setter, and I've never really been that good at spiking. I'm only 5'5", so no one really expected much of me. But I'm getting better. Coach is even considering setting up a libero set just so I can spike every now and then.

I'm consumed by thoughts of volleyball when I walk into homeroom. I didn't bother running today – what's the point? Our teacher is always late, and it's early November, so I think I have a large enough sample to tell.

I run a hand through my hair as I sit down, not really paying attention to my surroundings. I was up until midnight last night finishing homework, so I was about ready to drop dead. I let out a loud yawn right as Dani tapped me on the head.

"Hey sleepyhead. How was practice?" she asks, complete with a bright smile. She's too cheery this early in the day, I don't know how she does it.

"It was better this morning. Coach went into hardcore mode yesterday though. I would have much rather been at the craft show," I admit with a sad smile. Dani's smile widens.

"Well I've got the next best thing! It was such a steal and I know you're gonna love it! It's so unique and I think it could go well with whatever you're wearing!"

Dani rummages in her coach pocket until she pulls out a little black box, wrapped with red ribbon, and sets it on my desk. I'm just about to unwrap it – what could it be, jewelry? A necklace? Earrings? – when Mr. Greyson walks into class, and he looks angry, too. Dani frowns.

"Guess you'll have to open it later. Call me tonight and tell me if you like it! I'm going on a date so any time after eight is good for me!"

Before I have so much time to ask "A date? With who!?" Our teacher is already calling attendance. I glance at Anthony, unintentionally. Almost like a reflex. What if her date is with him? I've never seen Anthony with a girl before, but Dani would be just his type. Smart, pretty, slightly sporty but not too much, and friendly without being overly outgoing. Just the type of person to break him out of his shell. I sighed. Knowing my luck, she probably was going on a date with him.

Lunchtime brought answers. I turned to Carly as soon as I sat down with my burger and fries. She was eating a salad – she usually got her food in Cafeteria 2, which had fancier and healthier options than my own Cafeteria 1. But Caf 1 was also cheaper, so burger and fries it was. I would burn it off later during another afternoon practice anyway.

Carly, as well as being our #1 wingwoman, also always knew who was dating who, who was friends with who, and who was stirring up drama. She was just a people person all around.

"Hey, did you hear that Dani's got a date tonight?" I ask her in between bites of fries. Her bright blue eyes light up and she flips her perfectly permed hair over her shoulder, like she always does when she's got a big scoop.

"I know! It's so cute, right?" she smiles as she takes a bite of her apple, but she keeps talking with the fruit in her mouth. "Robbie is such a cutie, right?"

"Robbie? Robbie Johnson or Robbie Smith?" I ask. One was the backup quarterback. The other was captain of the chess club. There was a big difference.

"Johnson, silly! They've been eyeing each other all season, it was just a matter of time!" she finally swallowed her bite of apple. So Dani was going on a date with a football player. How cliché. But Robbie was cute – he was showy, yeah, but he was also really sweet. I hear he volunteers after school at the hospital.

"I wish she had told me. When did he ask her out?" I'm pouting a little as I finish my fries. She could have at least called. She knows I'm at home any time after practice.

"Two days ago. He originally asked her to homecoming, but she said she wanted to get to know him first. So they're going on a date! Smart, right?" Carly says, while crunching on a crouton.

"Did she tell you, or did you just find out?" I ask. This is starting to sound like an interrogation, especially since Debbie and Heather are busy talking about this new British show Heather has discovered.

"Dave told me, of course!" Dave's her current boyfriend, a running back on the football team, and also one of Robbie's best friends. Of course. I should have thought of that. "Why, did she say something about him? Give me details, girl!"

I wave her off, rolling my eyes. "No, she just mentioned going on a date tonight, and I didn't get the chance to ask her to elaborate."

"Are you jealous of Robbie for stealing your best friend away from you?" Debbie asks. She's never had a filter and I'm used to invasive or awkward questions like this one.

"No, I'm just a little upset that she didn't tell me. I would have told her if I was going on a date."

"But there's only one boy good enough for you, right?"

I whip around to glare at Carly's who's winking at me. Of course she knows I still have a crush on Anthony. She can smell attraction a mile away.

"Oooh! Who is it, Robin?" Heather asks. I'm just gearing up to deflect all questions concerning my love life, when I'm saved by the bell. Thank god. I shrug at the girls, who groan, and I sprint off to my next class.


	3. Book It, Robin! (Run, Robin!)

When I reach the classroom, the rest of the students file in behind me. Everyone looks half asleep, and I don't blame them. World History with Mrs. Howard was always uneventful. She spoke in such a monotone voice and threw out dates like they were candy, managing to bore and confuse students at the same time.

By the time the bell signaling the start of class sounds, Mrs. Howard still isn't there. I share confused looks with a few other students. Mrs. Howard is known for her punctuality. Was there something wrong? She was sort of old, maybe something had happened?

The first scream confirmed that something is indeed, very wrong. Instead of confused looks, panicked ones are now circulating the room. They turn into screams of our own when the fire alarm sounds, sending students hurdling towards the exit at full speed. I'm almost hit by a flying chair as Jim, who sits behind me, vaults over desks towards the door. I join the stampede just to avoid being injured, and soon the sea of students dumps me out behind the school in the patch of grass that administration likes to call the quad, even though it's really just where the stoners like to get high.

Screams erupt once more from the crowd, and I'm confused by it, until I hear the laughter and look above us. There, suspended in the air, is a girl clad in what looks like a superhero uniform. It's skin-tight and white, with a big fat F in the center of her chest, in what looks like script. She wears glasses and her hair is in tight curls at the base of her neck. Her wings, spread out behind her and flapping, look to be made out of papers.

"I am The Liberator, and I'm here to free you from the binds of horrible teachers! They have the power to give you bad grades simply because they don't like you, and ruin your life in the blink of an eye without ever caring! And no one believes you when you challenge them!"

The Liberator's eyes flashed red, and suddenly all of our teachers rose into the air, shackled and gagged with the same sort of papers that made up her wings. They're struggling, some attempting to cry out, as they're lifted further and further into the air.

I can't take it. What the hell is going on? Aren't superheroes (or villains, in this case) fictional? All of this is physically impossible! And what if I'm next? What if this girl displaces her anger and starts attacking students after the teachers are done away with? I've never seen a superhero before, so how could anyone hope to stop this girl? What if she can't be stopped?

I run. I about-face and run as fast as my legs can carry me away from the floating girl and the throng of frightened students. I don't think, my legs just move. There's nothing I can do except fend for myself, leave, run, flee, escape. I don't know what's going to happen next, so I don't wait around. I'm gone before anyone has a chance to pick themselves off the ground after I bowl them over.

I run all the way home. It's isn't a long run, just three miles, and I don't even think about my breathing as I run. I left my volleyball gear at school. I had left everything at school except my jacket. As this thought enters my head, a loud thunk sounds. I skid to a stop and glance behind me. A small black box with red ribbon. Dani's present. In my fear-stricken mind, I'm so ashamed that I've dropped it. What if it's broken? I grab it off the ground and cradle it all the way home, like a lifeline. When I open the door, both of my parents are crowded around the TV. My mom looks like she's about to break down crying. My dad's fists are clenched tightly, and he's positively glaring at the TV.

"-at Westbrook High School. Police say that as well as the super-powered aggressor, that a man described as a superhero has appeared on the scene and is battling the assailant. Sources say he's calling himself-"

"Turn that off," I almost sob. My parents snap around and rush me, scaring all of our cats. They hug me so tight that I'm lifted right off the ground. It's teary and emotional, but they're both just so happy that I'm safe. My mom says something about a quarantine on the school, and asks me how I managed to slip away; my dad is asking about the Liberator and what she was like, what she looked like so he could go right up to that school and fight the person who could have hurt his daughter. I tell them to stop. It's too much for me.

They respect my wishes and send me to bed with a little snack and a glass of water, telling me that if I need them they'll be in the living room. It's only 2 in the afternoon, but it feels like I've been awake for weeks. I'm so scared. I curl up into a ball on top of my comforter and cry, not even bothering to take my shoes off.

But soon, Boots find me. She always knows when I'm sad. She's mewing at my door, scratching until I let her in. And I let Goober in too, a brown tabby, because I can use all the comfort I can get. I toe my shoes off and curl up on the bed again, Goober behind my legs and Boots in my arms, purring and nuzzling against my hand. I'm so scared. What if that superhero doesn't win? What if he's not a hero, but Liberator's sidekick? What if they decide that the school isn't enough, and that they want to rule the world? How can I protect myself, my family, my friends? All the Kung Fu in the world couldn't help me.

Those were the thoughts I fell asleep to. When I wake up the next morning, I almost forget about it all. I almost don't remember the fear, the screams, crying with my parents. But once I see that I'm still in my clothes, and not two, but four cats surrounded me, I remember.

My thoughts are clearer now. I get out of bed and my mom tells me that yes, the Liberator was defeated. We're all safe. But she's looking at moving. She's scared for us now, that if there's a superhero in town, more villains will come around. I manage to talk her out of it, mentioning her job, dad's job, all of our friends. Maybe this will be a one-time occurrence. I'm trying to convince myself as much as her. There are so many thoughts swirling around my head that they're hard to comprehend. So I pick up the phone and dial Dani's number. I have to make sure she's OK. I have to hear her voice.

"Hello?"

"Dani! Are you OK?"

"Robin? Yeah, I'm fine! Everyone's fine thanks to that… ah what's his face. Did you see him, Robin? He saved everyone!"

"No, I didn't. I ran home as soon as I saw the-"

"The Liberator?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know that was Isabella, the Junior? Mr. Crous was giving her bad grades because he thought she was 'too smart' and 'needed to be brought down a peg'! What a nasty old fart! Apparently she was so upset that she developed those powers, but the hero saved her, cured her! And Mr. Crous got fired! It's so wild!"

I'm dumbfounded. How can Dani sound so calm when talking about this sort of thing? That must have been horrifying, even if it was just a misguided student.

"Did I tell you that he – the hero dude – healed everyone that got hurt, too? Everything's OK and he promised to protect us if anything like that were to happen again! Robin, you should have seen him. Honestly we're safe from anything as long as he's here. Trust me."

She's so sure! So positive that this hero can protect us from anything. What's this guy like, anyway?

"So anyway, my date last night went really well! We had a lot to talk about," Dani giggles. My eyes almost bug out of my head.

"You still went on your date after all that!?"

"Yeah! Robbie is so sweet, Robin. We really bonded! We're going on another date on Tuesday! Robin, hey? You there?"

"Yeah, but just… I went home and my parents were scared and yelling and talking about moving and yours just let you go on a date? After school was attacked?"

"Well, yeah. Once they saw that there was a hero to protect us, they decided it was better to just carry on with life rather than fret about it."

The benefits of having hippie parents. I sigh. I guess it isn't so bad if we're being protected.

"Oh! Did you open my present?" Dani asks. I can practically hear her jumping up and down in excitement.

"No, not yet." I was too busy having a panic attack.

"Open it! Go, go, go!"

I laugh, my mood lightened. Dani always managed to do that so easily. I switch phones to the one in my room and grab the box off my desk. I untie the red ribbon and spend an extra second wondering what it could be. It had to be jewelry. I was hoping a bracelet or a necklace, something that wasn't too small, so I would remember to take off before practice. With one last second of hoping, I lift the lid off the box.


	4. Buggin' Out (Freaking Out)

Inside it sits a large black ring. It's made of metal, probably steel stained black. There's some sort of flat stone in the center, maybe onyx? It looks like a men's ring in all honesty. I've never been much for rings, but I have to admit, its simplicity speaks to me. She's right, it's unique but it still works with everything. I could see myself wearing it.

"It's a ring!" I say, examining it closely.

"Do you like it? I don't know what stone it is, but it's cool, right?"

"Yeah, I think it's onyx. It's really unique, Dani! I love it," I say, smiling at the ring.

"Really? You don't sound too enthusiastic. Man, I knew I should have gotten you that weird birdfeeder instead…"

"No, I'm serious! This is better than any birdfeeder. I'll wear it every day." OK, maybe not every day. I'd probably lose it before then, with my luck. But I do like it.

"Great! I'll see you on Monday, then!"

"See ya!" I reply before hanging up the phone. Boots is rubbing against my legs so I scratch her ears absentmindedly before sitting on my bed, examining the ring.

"Is this thing even my size?" I ask. I peer through the hole skeptically, turning it this way and that. It looks too small for my pointer finger. Maybe the ring finger?

I slide it onto my right ring finger and smile, admiring how the stone catches the light. That is, before the stone starts glowing a startling green. My eyes widen and I'm trying to pull the damn thing off, but it just won't budge – it's a little too small to come off that easily. The ray of green light widens and a black puff of smoke erupts from it. I lean back just in time for it to avoid my face, falling back onto the bed.

"Oh man, I'm glad to be out of there. I'm so hungry. I think I could eat an entire cave full of cheese!"

I lean back on my elbows and look towards the voice with an eyebrow raised. What in God's name is talking in my room? What the hell came out of my ring? What's wrong with my life?

I face a small black thing that's vaguely cat-shaped, floating – let me emphasize that, floating – at the foot of my bed, rolling around in midair talking about cheese.

"What." I say. It's more to myself than anything, but the floating puffball takes notice. It looks at me like it hadn't seen me before. What a prick.

"Do you have any cheese? Then I'll tell you what's going on. But I am famished, let me tell you."

It's talking to me. It wants cheese.

I'm lactose intolerant.

"What are you and what were you doing in my ring?" I ask. I try to sound firm, but I end up just sounding perplexed.

"Ugh. Fine, I guess that's fair. My name is Plagg and I'm a kwami-"

"A what?" That didn't even found like a real word. Either of those things.

"A kwami. It's not easy to explain, but you humans seem to understand when I compare kwami to fairies, so I guess I'm a fairy, whatever that is."

A fairy? Well, something similar to a fairy. I had read fantasy books as a kid, I guess this little guy seems like a fairy. A really hungry, weird-looking fairy.

"My name is Plagg, and that's actually my ring. Many humans have owned it before you, but I've always been here. So, technically, my ring. Cheese now?"

"I don't have any cheese."

"No cheese?! What are you, a barbarian! What kind of stupid human doesn't have cheese?"

"I'm lactose intolerant," I say. The little blob is right in front of my face now, yelling at me, its little green eyes boring into my own.

"What does that mean, that you're a cheese-hater? I refuse to work with someone who won't provide me cheese! It's my only term."

"I don't hate cheese, I just can't eat it! My body can't handle it! But I can go check for you, I guess, just don't hurt me!" I said, hands up in a position of surrender. I didn't know what this thing was capable of. Best to just give it what it wants. Maybe find some butter to slide this ring off and throw it in a lake so that some other poor sap has to deal with this "kwami" thing. Of course Dani gave me a possessed ring. Of course.

"I wouldn't hurt you!" the little thing says, calming down a bit. It settles on my bed, looking up at me.

"I guess my introduction wasn't the best. I'm not very good at human interaction, never have been. And I'm grumpy without cheese, so I'm sorry. I should probably explain before anything else."

"I'm a kwami, and that thing on your finger is our Miraculous. It's an artifact that allows its wearer to gain powers. This Miraculous in particular allows you to gain enhanced speed, strength, agility, flexibility, and vision. In exchange for these powers, a Miraculous wielder – that's you – is expected to use them to protect humanity. You can choose not to accept the Miraculous, you can just give the ring to someone else if you want. But you need to know that this ring came to you for a reason. That you're destined to wield it, and if you choose not to, I can't guarantee that this world will be protected."


	5. Robin's Amped! (Robin's Excited!)

I look down at the ring on my finger. It's warm, like it's a living thing filled with power. Is the hero that saved my school also a Miraculous wielder? Is that what this does, it turns me into a superhero? Does this mean more villains are going to show up?

"So with this, if someone attacks my school again, I could defeat them?" I ask.

"Yes," Plagg answers simply. "And you're lucky you weren't needed yesterday. Ladybug can't do everything by themselves."

"Ladybug?" I ask, confused.

"The other Miraculous wielder. Every Ladybug needs their Cat, just like every Cat needs their Ladybug."

"Cat?"

Plagg looks like he's smiling. "I'll show you. Say, 'claws out!'"

"Claws out?"

Even though it is a question, I immediately feel a change in the air. Plagg is sucked into the ring once more, which now glows green. I look at it and am surprised to see a green paw print plastered on the onyx. But that isn't the only thing. I almost scream when a green light envelopes me, and black starts to cover me. Stretchy, smooth material covers me from head to toe. Boots appear on my feet, and finally, pieces of fabric in my blonde hair, and a mask covering my face. I shake my head once the transformation is compete, and I race to the mirror.

I look like a black cat. I'm covered head to toe in black leather and latex. My boots look sturdy but also light, and I can feel the traction they provide. There's a belt flopping around behind me, and I chase it until I finally secure it in my hand. It's a tail. I scrunch my face together in a look of confusion, which is visible even through the mask. My eyes, damn what happened to them? They're always a somewhat startling green, but now the whites of my eyes are completely swallowed by green. The bell at my throat jingles as I swallow nervously, and I paw at my leather headpiece, which resembles cat ears. I managed to catch some of my hair with my hand, and it's stuck in my claws. What the hell.

"What the hell?"

I hear chuckling from the ring and I glare at it.

"Stop it, Plagg. Get me out of this ridiculous thing right now. The only thing that could make it worse is leg warmers!"

As soon as I wish it, my transformation is released, and within seconds I'm my old self again. Not a leather-clad cat superhero. Plagg flies out of the ring.

"The outfit isn't that bad. And I explained everything, so can I get some cheese now?"

"I guess. I think dad keeps some in the back of the fridge," I walk into the kitchen with Plagg on my tail. My parents have already left for the day, dad to work and mom to run errands (and probably gather information regarding the attack). I grab the cheese and Plagg goes to down, downing three cheese cubes in one supernaturally large bite.

"So, I transform into that?"

"You're called Black Cat," Plagg says in between bites. He seems a bit put off that I don't like the transformation.

"So I'm Black Cat. And does Black Cat have to wear that? Can I at least get a tank top or some shorts or something to wear over it? I feel so exposed." I know that the suit covers every inch of my skin that isn't my face (and it still covers most of that) but it's so tight that it makes me nervous. Not to mention the weird eyes, the bell, the claws, the tail…

"You're not exposed at all! The suit is strong enough to stop any human weapon from piercing it – blades, bullets, whatever," Plagg burps. "You don't need anything else."

I sigh. At least it's safe. If not geeky looking and overly sexy at the same time. Maybe the geekiness will cancel out the sexiness?

"And the bell? The tail? I'm guessing the claws are a weapon, but what if someone grabs me by the tail during a fight? And won't bad guys be able to hear when I'm coming with that bell?"

"Hey, I'm just the kwami, OK? You can't change the suit, I can't change the suit, we're both out of luck. At least you're not shoved in a teeny tiny ring for the entire transformation, right?"

I look away. He has a point, it must be horrible trapped inside the ring; I hadn't even thought about it.

"Sorry."

The cat looks up from his meal and fixes me with a weird look.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Apologize all the time. It's not what Black Cat does." I quirk an eyebrow. Who does this blob think he is, telling me who I am and what I'm supposed to say?!

"Oh really? Well then enlighten me on what a Black Cat does, oh great master," I snap, complete with fake bow. It's obvious Plagg catches on to my sarcasm, but he bites back with snark of his own as he downs the entire tray of cheese.

"It's simple. Black Cat is confident, stealthy, witty, charming, and suave. Ladybug is intelligent, problem-solving, optimistic, a quiet leader, and goal-oriented. Cat is not a person that constantly apologizes for things they didn't do."

My eyes widen. Are there certain traits that the Miraculous need to exhibit, or is Plagg just being a jerk?

"And they're always like that?" I ask. Plagg snorts.

"Of course. It's why the Miraculous are drawn to them. Ladybug is always someone who has the potential to be a great leader, but is inhibited by something. Black Cat is always someone who hasn't had a chance to be their true self yet. It's just how it is. There's more of course – Ladybugs are usually girls, and Cats are usually boys, but of course there's exceptions to that. Each one's different in their own ways, but it's always a leader and an actor."

I scrunch my eyebrows together in concentration and frustration. Someone who can't show their true self? I think I'm myself at school, with my parents, and wherever. I don't feel like anything is preventing me from being myself.

"Then I can't be Black Cat. I'm myself. I don't have to fake anything for anyone."

"See, some of them said that. Then they went out for the first time," Plagg laughs, his distended belly jiggling from all the cheese he ate. I frown at him.

"Yeah, sure. What if I'm not supposed to be Cat? My friend got me the ring, after all. What if it was meant for her to be Cat?"

"Impossible. Then the ring wouldn't have fit you. The ring chooses the Cat," Plagg waggles a hand at me. I don't think I like him very much. "Hey, if you don't believe me, then let's go out as Black Cat. Then you'll see how much you change in the suit. You need to get used to your powers anyway."

I frown at him again, but I'm also debating the challenge. It's the perfect chance to show him that I'm not the "actor" that he seems to think I am. Plus, I have to admit I'm intrigued by the powers I'll gain.

"OK, but we've gotta be back by four. It's the last day before regionals and we missed practice yesterday because of the attack on the school, so I have to be there on time."

"Fine with me," Plagg shrugs as much as he can from his food coma on the counter.

"Ace. Claws out!"


	6. What's Your Damage, Kid?

This time I hold my hand towards Plagg as he's pulled towards the ring, so it doesn't take as long. I'm still amazed by the transformation and how short it is. Within seconds I'm leather-clad and suited up. I'm hesitant, but there's a pull in my gut telling me what to do. I'm not sure whether it's Plagg helping me out, or instincts, or some sixth superhero sense (Like spidey sense? Would it be kitty sense for me?) but I fling open the back door and jump out, before realizing just how geeky I look. I stand up from my crouch and close the door like a normal person. That was… weird. Cat sense is gonna have to take a chill pill.

I live in a neighborhood in the suburbs, so there's not much around besides the road and houses. My senses tell me to jump into a tree, and before I can so much as think "that's a horrible idea, no thanks" I'm in a tree in my backyard. I just jumped into it. How could I jump that high?

If I can jump higher, can I also jump further? I brace myself and jump for a tree in my neighbor's yard. It's a direct hit, and I land with only a jingle from the bell around my neck. Increased strength and agility, huh? What else did Plagg say I could do? Didn't he say something about speed?

Soon I was jumping from tree to tree, soundless except for the dumb bell. If I had a faulty landing, the claws digging into the bark kept me from falling, and the traction in my boots was a nice touch as well. Should have called me Flying Squirrel instead of Black Cat.

It only takes moments for me to maneuver myself out of the neighborhood and onto the road that would take me to school. The trees are further dispersed here, but my supercharged body doesn't seem to mind, adjusting easily. I'm adjusting mentally as well. It's so strange to just think of doing something that should be impossible and having my body perform it with such ease.

Now I'm on Main Street. I jump from my tree to the rooftops, sprinting and hoisting myself across buildings without a single protest from my muscles. I smile, gaining confidence, and jump from a rooftop to a lamppost, swinging on it like it's the bar in gymnastics before launching myself to the next lamp and landing on top of it. I land in a crouching position, laughing to myself as I see the townspeople staring up at me with wide eyes. I wave to a little girl who's looking on in wonder, and she smiles back, even though her mom seems afraid. Who wouldn't be, with what happened yesterday?

As soon as the thought passes through my mind, there's a brilliant flash of red light from the fire department. Everyone turns to look. At first, I think it's just the firemen gearing up and heading out in the truck, but once I hear the sickening crack, I realize that's not what's happening at all.

"Get out of here!" I yell at the crowd gathered below me. They turn tail as soon as I say something, scrambling away from the firehouse, some of them screaming. I turn to face the building just as the red light dies down and the cracking culminates. A figure rises from the broken roof of the firehouse. It's small, and seems to be dressed in fireman's garb, except it's skintight with a big flame plastered on the front of his chest. He's just a kid, no more than eight.

"You're supposed to be heroes, but you're just bullies! And I hate bullies!" The kid yells, and a ball of flame forms in his hand. He throws it at the firehouse, and the men inside are yelling, sirens blaring. My eyes are wide. I'm scared out of my wits. Flying chick that can control failed tests, that I can handle. But tiny child that can control fire? Not only am I against fighting kids, but this one was throwing fire at people like it was nobody's business.

Every fiber of my being is telling me to turn tail and run like last time, but there's something deeper that's compelling me to stay. And then his eyes locked onto mine.

He can't fly, but he runs across the roof and jumps, using his fire powers to propel him forward and onto the next house, and he's running towards me. I hesitate. Do I really need to fight him?

"Black Cat, give me your Miraculous!" He yells, and he throws a fireball at me. I only have an instant to react, so I flip upside-down, hanging off of the lamppost by my legs until I swing myself around and land on my feet, on top of the post, right after the ball wizzes by.

"You don't have to do this, kid," I say, hands up in a defensive position. He doesn't listen and a second fireball flies my way. I dodge it by jumping onto the nearest building.

"Hurting people isn't going to solve anything!" I yell as he throws a third. I duck and it singes the tips of my cat ears. If only I had a weapon.

I feel something poking into my shoulder blades. I've felt the weight there before, but I thought it was just part of the suit. I reach around and pull a silver baton-like thing off my back. Is this a weapon? I press a button in the center and it extends into a staff. That's more like it.

"I don't wanna fight you, kid!"

"Then give me your Miraculous!" he shouts back. I scrunch my eyebrows together as he throws another flame, and I easily spin the staff in my hands, fast enough to completely douse out the flame.

"Why?" I'm more confused than anything else. What did Plagg have to do with this little kid's loss of innocence?

"If I don't get the Miraculous for Hawkmoth, I'll lose my powers! So hand it over and I'll stop shooting at you!"

He'll stop shooting at me, yes, but what about everyone else? Power like that shouldn't be in the hands of a volatile kid.

"Not a chance, squirt," I reply. Then I attack, dodging flames until I sweep the kid off of his feet, and he lands with his back pressed against the roof, my staff aimed at his head. I'm not exactly sure what to do… how do I "cure" him like Ladybug did? Do I have to show him the power of friendship or something?

As I'm trying to figure out how this whole crime fighting thing works, the kid shoots flames at my feet and although the suit protects me, I still feel the heat and I flinch, allowing him enough time to get away. As I jump back, I notice the fire that's spread from the firehouse and is consuming most of Main Street. All of the small businesses and little townhouses going up in smoke. And it's this brat's fault. Who cares about how old he is? He needs to learn a lesson and I'm going to teach it to him. It's my job.

I start to charge at him, twirling my staff and readying to deflect any flames he throws at me, when something shoots out at me from the corner of my eye. I can't react, can't deflect it, and I'm hit right in the ribs. I cry out in pain – I had to have broken at least a few of them – and roll to almost the edge of the roof, crumpled into a ball.


End file.
